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  “Atta boy.” She grins and opens the fridge. Hands me a bottle. I open it and hand it back to her. Girls hate twisting off those sharp caps. She grabs another one for me.

  “Indulge responsibly.” She smiles. We clink. Sara’s cool. She and Lindsay were pretty good friends up until Lindsay’s little social group switcheroo this year.

  “I’m going out onto the deck,” Sara says. She glances over my shoulder at the crowded living room. People are dancing, making out, playing drinking games. She looks back at me. “You should come too. The interesting people are outside.” The screen door slams shut behind her.

  I look back toward the living room. Lindsay is sitting on Josh’s knee now. She’s pressed right up against him. He’s got one hand on her hip, almost under her skirt. He’s drinking a beer with the other. She’s smiling, tucking his long Drama Man hair behind his ear and saying something to him.

  Part of me wants to leave. Just go outside and talk to some friends and relax a bit. Try to enjoy myself with a girl I like. A different girl.

  But another part of me doesn’t want to let Lindsay out of my sight. She’s hammered, and I’m worried she’s going to do something stupid.

  But the second I think this, I realize how stupid I’m being. Lindsay doesn’t need me to look out for her. She wouldn’t even want me to now.

  Realizing this makes my decision easy. Okay. Fine. I’m going elsewhere.

  I’m about to turn and head for the deck when I see Josh’s ugly friend Bryce take a little plastic bag out of his pocket. I watch as he opens it up and reaches inside. Takes something out. A tablet. Ecstasy. He passes the bag to Renata, who’s stuck to his side. She giggles and takes one. Passes the bag to Josh.

  My stomach tightens into a knot. Josh takes a tablet.

  He passes the bag to Lindsay. She’s so messed she can hardly focus. I send her a silent message. No, Linds. Don’t do it.

  Josh laughs and takes the bag from her. Whispers something in her ear. She giggles and opens her mouth for him. I can’t believe this. Lindsay doesn’t even know what she’s doing. She’s never ever taken drugs before. She would never do that with someone she hardly even knows. She’s an A student, for god’s sake! She—

  Josh places the little tablet on her tongue. NO!

  I realize I can’t let Lindsay have that tablet. I take a step toward the doorway.

  That’s when she turns and looks right at me. My feet freeze to the floor. She smiles dreamily. Opens her mouth and shows me the little blue tablet on her tongue. Then she winks and blows me a kiss.

  I shake my head at her and mouth the word no.

  But she doesn’t see it.

  Because right then, Josh takes her chin in his hand and turns her face toward him. My heart empties itself of blood in a rush. I stare in hot misery as their lips meet. His hands slide around her hips, pulling her close. She brings her hands up slowly, until she’s holding his face. My jaw locks up and I feel an aching in my throat that I haven’t felt in years. I rip my eyes away from the scene in front of me and stumble out onto the deck.

  I lean on the railing and rest my head on my arms. I close my eyes. Just for a second.

  And I wait. For my heart to slow down. For the blood to stop pounding in my ears. For my breathing to return to normal. I wait to be a little less crazy.

  I can hear the music from inside. The Black Eyed Peas, telling us all how tonight’s going to be a good night.

  Right.

  Suddenly my head snaps up.

  Shit.

  Lindsay took that pill and I didn’t stop her.

  Chapter Eight

  I race back inside and look around.

  Lindsay is headed up the stairs. She’s following Josh, holding his hand.

  Unsure of my plan—or whether I even have one—I follow them.

  By the time she’s walking through the bedroom doorway, I’m right behind her. Josh is already inside. Lindsay turns to close the door. In this unguarded moment, she looks unhappy. She sees me and stares, confused. She looks drunk and messy and tired.

  Why is she doing this?

  “Lindsay,” I begin. What am I going to say? I didn’t think about this. I just… ran up here and now I’m standing in her way. Wanting to stop her from doing something stupid.

  I reach out and catch her wrist in my hand. I lower my voice. “Linds. Don’t go in there. You’re drunk. You’re on drugs. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  She frowns. A strand of hair has fallen across her face. Impatient, she reaches up and pushes it out of the way. She twists her arm out of my grasp. “What are you doing here, Mike? Can’t you see I’m busy?” Her words are thick, and she speaks slowly.

  I don’t want Lindsay in that room, with that guy, tonight. And I don’t care how mad she gets at me for intervening. I know exactly what she’s got planned.

  And I also know that she’s wasted. Maybe she just means to add another little notch in her belt to tell her girlfriends about. But who’s to say it’ll stop there? What if they decide to take it even farther? Even though Lindsay has been putting on a good show of being a different person than she used to be, I’m convinced she hasn’t changed in every way.

  I’m certain she hasn’t slept with anyone yet. We talked about it more than once. She told me she was waiting for the right time—and the right guy. The old Lindsay would never have pissed something like that away with some stoner at a party.

  I look into Lindsay’s face. God, she’s pretty. Even when she’s all smudgy and mad. I take a deep breath. “I need to talk to you. Now. It’s important.” I pause. “And it’s long overdue.”

  Something flickers in her eyes. She looks down at her hands. I see a muscle working in her jaw. Then she looks back up at me.

  I’m surprised by how cold her voice is.

  “I don’t think so, Mike,” she says. “You’ve had lots of time to talk to me.” Anger flashes in her eyes. “And last I checked, you had a lot of explaining to do.”

  Josh appears in the doorway behind her. He slides his hand around her stomach and looks at me. He’s trying to figure out what’s going on.

  Suddenly Lindsay’s tone changes, growing sweet. But her words are bitter. “What’s the matter, Mikey? You jealous?” She pulls her shirt up, revealing a beautiful slice of gymnastics-toned stomach. Her chin dips down and she looks at me through flirty lashes. “You want a piece of me?” She traces a finger slowly from my collarbone to my belt.

  The she laughs, big, openmouthed, loud. She pushes me, hard. Caught off guard, I take a step backward.

  Her eyes narrow. “You had your chance, Mike.” Her words sting me like a slap in the face. Without taking her eyes off me, she grabs Josh’s hand and pushes it up, slowly, under her shirt. He smirks, sliding the other hand under too. My jaw tenses and my hands draw themselves into fists.

  Breathe, I tell myself.

  I hear a noise behind me and turn. Bryce is edging past me, heading into the bedroom.

  With Lindsay and Josh.

  What the hell? What’s he going in there for? This scene is getting even sketchier. Two guys? I don’t like this at all.

  I don’t want Bryce going into that room. I raise my arm to block him. But he’s fast for a drama queen. He grabs my arm and twists it behind my back, jamming me face-first into the side of the door. Josh pushes Lindsay behind him into the room. She stumbles. The door closes. Bryce and I are left on the outside.

  Suddenly I’m angry. Really angry. Who does this dick think he is? I bounce off the door frame and grab him again. He throws my hands off. With a solid crunch, he slams his shoulder into my chest and sends me flying. I grab for the railing at the top of the stairway, but my hands slice through air, catching nothing. My feet stumble and miss, failing me. I feel myself pinwheeling backward.

  Down the stairs.

  Chapter Nine

  I come to in a haze of light and noise. I remember falling.

  My head hurts. It’s resting in someone’s lap. I h
ear sirens.

  No. Not sirens. Screaming.

  No, that’s not screaming. It’s singing.

  It’s Renata. She’s singing at the top of her lungs. “Bad Romance.” In a really bad voice. She pauses after every verse to take a drag off her cigarette. Looks like she’s done with being the smoke police for the night.

  I guess I’m not dead, then, because I’m pretty sure Renata’s not supposed to be in my version of heaven.

  The music booms. I hear bottles clinking and people laughing. Something wet presses on my forehead. Ouch.

  Renata notices me looking around and shrieks. It startles me.

  “Jesus! What the hell?” I try to sit up, but hands push me down.

  Renata shrieks again. “He’s awake!” Then, as if I can’t understand English, she pushes her face close and talks to me slowly, in a loud voice. “Mike, can you hear me? Michael? Can you hear me?”

  I try to sit up again. My head is throbbing.

  Sara puts a hand on my chest. “Just relax, Mike,” she says.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “He speaks!” screeches Renata. “Mike! You’re alive! You fell down, like, a thousand stairs! You should be dead!”

  Sara shoots Renata a look. “Renata. Please.”

  Renata blinks. “What? Didn’t you see him? He, like, almost died!” She takes a drag off her smoke and blows it at Sara. “He shouldn’t even be alive right now.” She starts singing again.

  I remember Renata helping herself to one of the colorful little tabs that Bryce brought.

  Sara ignores her. “You fell down the stairs, Mike. You banged your head pretty good.” She shows me the cloth that she’s been holding on my forehead. Blood smears one side. “It looks worse than it is,” she says. “Mostly you got a really big bump. You’re pretty lucky.”

  “How’d I fall?” I ask. I know for sure I hadn’t been drinking enough to actually fall down a flight of stairs. Had I?

  Sara shrugs. “No one saw it happen. You just came flying down the stairs. We made sure you were okay, and then we waited for you to come around.”

  Suddenly I connect all the dots.

  Renata.

  Bryce.

  His bag of tablets.

  Josh.

  Lindsay!

  I struggle into a sitting position. Sara sits back on her heels, holding the cloth. She doesn’t try to stop me this time. My head gives a sharp throb. “Jesus, Sara. How long have I been passed out?”

  She shrugs. “Ten, fifteen minutes?”

  Shit. That’s a lifetime. Anger knots my chest. Here I’ve been lying on the carpet like Sleeping Beauty while my best friend gets her brains screwed out by a couple of jackass seniors. Nice work, Mike, I think. You’re a real white knight, aren’t you?

  I look up, toward the top of the stairway. The bedroom door is open a bit. The light’s off. Did she leave with those guys?

  I push myself up onto my feet and stand. My head hurts. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got to find Lindsay. I touch Sara’s shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

  “Anytime!” chirps Renata.

  Sara nods.

  Head pounding, I climb the stairs.

  I reach the landing and push the door open. It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. I can just make out the shape on the bed. It’s Lindsay. She’s alone.

  Good. She didn’t leave with those guys.

  She’s not moving.

  My relief changes to fear. I hurry to the side of the bed. Hold my hand over her face. My body relaxes when I feel her breath on my palm. But is she hurt? I stretch my fingers out, searching for the switch on the bedside lamp.

  I turn the light on and stare.

  She’s lying on her back, sprawled across the bed.

  Naked.

  I was too late. Too late to stop those jerks.

  Seeing Lindsay like this breaks my heart. The way her lean body looks like a rag doll that’s been tossed aside. So disrespected. Her T-shirt is pushed up around her neck. Her bra is off, flung up against the pillows. Her skirt and panties are bunched up on the floor.

  Vomit stains the pillow beside her head. The little blue tablet of ecstasy is there too. Thank god. She must’ve been really sick to spit that up so fast after dropping.

  I strip off the dirty pillowcase and throw it on the floor.

  I go and close the door, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat. No one else needs to see this.

  I begin picking up Lindsay’s clothes. This is the first time I’ve seen her naked since we were little kids. She’s beautiful. But it’s hardly the way I’d imagined it to be.

  I toss her skirt and underwear on the bed and stuff her bra into my pocket. That’ll be too hard to get on right. I tug her shirt down until it covers her belly. Next up: underwear. I work them up over her legs and onto her hips.

  I slide her jean skirt up and over her legs, straightening it until she looks pretty much decent. She’s still passed out, breathing deeply. She hasn’t moved since I came in. I reach out and brush her hair off her face.

  And suddenly I’m overcome. What’s going on? How did things get so messed up for my best friend? I rub my hands over my face. A black thought gnaws at the edges of my mind. The thought that, maybe if I hadn’t screwed things up so badly back in June, Lindsay and I would be together right now. That maybe she wouldn’t have gone away for the whole summer and come back a sleazy guy pleaser who only cares about looking good, being thin and beating her friends at this stupid game they’re playing.

  That maybe she wouldn’t have to wake up and realize she’s just lost her virginity to two guys at a party where she was drunk and high on E.

  That maybe—if I’d manned up and tried harder to actually straighten out the mess between us—this never would have happened.

  Chapter Ten

  I look at the clock: 10:21. I lie down next to Lindsay, curling my body against hers. I think about how much I’ve let her down. And then I think about what I can do to make it up to her.

  Eventually her steady, deep breathing lulls me to sleep.

  I wake up just after midnight. The music is still thumping. Party’s going strong. I prop myself up on one elbow. Lindsay is waking up. She moans and opens her eyes. She sees me. Covers her face with one hand.

  “Mike,” she whispers. “It’s you.”

  I touch her hair.

  Without a word, she rolls toward me. I put my arms around her.

  “I feel like shit,” she says. “Where are we?”

  “At Erin’s,” I answer.

  She’s quiet for a moment.

  “Why are we in the bedroom?” There’s dread in her voice.

  Briefly, I consider lying to her. Maybe I can save her from herself.

  But no. That’s not going to work. I can’t lie about this.

  Choosing my words carefully, I tell her what happened. That she drank, and dropped E, and then took Josh into the bedroom. That Bryce came too. That I tried to stop her, but that she shut me out. I don’t tell her that Bryce threw me down the stairs.

  “Both of them? Did I…what happened?” She looks up at me. “Josh and Bryce? Was it…did they…?” Her voice trails off. Closes her eyes. She can’t even finish the question. “Are you sure?”

  I nod.

  She doesn’t want to hear it. “But I’m wearing all my clothes, Mike,” she says. Her voice is pleading. It trembles and rises a bit, panicky. “I didn’t. They couldn’t. Look, see? I’m still wearing all my clothes.” She looks up at me desperately.

  I smooth her hair off her hot forehead. I wish I could lie, but I can’t.

  “I got you dressed,” I say.

  And then she starts to cry.

  She cries and cries, and I hold her and try to think of something to say that will make her feel better. But I can’t.

  When her tears finally run dry, she stays there, face pressed into my shirt, for a long time. Finally she pulls away and wipes the last smudges of makeup from her eyes. Her face is red a
nd blotchy.

  She lets out a shaky sigh. “You must think I’m awful,” she whispers.

  I’m surprised by her words. “Why would I think that?”

  She ignores my question. “I never meant for this to happen. I don’t know what I meant to happen, but it wasn’t this. I never wanted this. I don’t care about those”—she shudders—“those losers. None of them. None of them matter to me. They’re all jerks.”

  So all this crap since she came back from summer holidays…there’s no point to it? It’s all just been for show?

  Who is she trying to impress?

  “Then why are you doing all this crazy stuff?” I ask. We both know what I’m talking about.

  “I don’t know,” says Lindsay. She sounds defeated. “It’s all just so stupid. I guess I was hurt. After you—” She takes a big breath. “After last summer. I was so hurt when I found you and”— she hitches in a big breath—“you and Scarlett. On the swing. I w-w-wanted to show you I didn’t care,” she says. She hiccups and another sob erupts. “I just w-wanted…” Her voice trails off. “And now you think I’m a s-slut. Because of all this.” She starts crying again.

  This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. I need to tell her that it was all just a big mistake. That we’ve been misunderstanding each other all this time.

  That I don’t think she’s a slut. That I totally, fully, hugely want to be with her. And only her. Not that dumb little tramp, Scarlett. Not anyone. Just Lindsay.

  “Linds,” I say. I pull away from her a bit so I can look at her. She sniffles and wipes her eyes. She won’t look at me.

  “Hey.” I put my hand under her chin and lift. Her eyes meet mine. They’re soft and gray and sad—but I’m about to change that.

  I open my mouth to tell her everything that matters.

  And that’s when the door crashes open.

  Chapter Eleven

  Morgan and Aamena. They’re laughing, pushing each other. Looking for a place to be alone. By the time they see us and shut each other up with loud Ssshhhhh noises and apologize for barging in, the moment is completely destroyed.

  I walk Lindsay home. We don’t say anything. It’s totally strange. She’s still pretty tipsy, but she’s become hard again, locked up. At half past midnight, I walk her right up to her door. We’re ahead of her one o’clock curfew.